Anatomy of a Time Lord
by malaleen
Summary: Martha's interested in Time Lord anatomy. Will the Doctor play teacher to her student? Repost fic from 2007 Co-authored by Jacquie O and Malaleen.


It was becoming their nightly routine, not that the TARDIS had a true night and day. They would return from some adventure that most likely ended with one or both of them running for their lives, and while the Doctor would set the TARDIS off into the Vortex, Martha would head to the kitchen to start the kettle going. (Either that or she would wait for him, all the while slyly glancing over his shoulder, studying the movement of his hands in an attempt to memorize the dematerialization sequence, hoping that he wouldn't catch her looking.)

A few minutes later, the Doctor would join her, grabbing two mugs and tea out of the cupboards. Martha would always sigh as she grabbed her Nescafe instant coffee instead. The Doctor was adamant that tea was an infinitely better drink, while Martha maintained that coffee was her choice.

"I'm telling you, tea is the ultimate beverage," the Doctor insisted as he carried his cup to the library. For some reason, the Doctor didn't like to stay long in the kitchen to relax, instead preferring the vast library of the TARDIS. Once Martha had seen the immense collection of books the Doctor owned, she had to admit she liked it better too. "All those free radicals and tannins. Saved my bacon more than once, let me tell you," he said.

"Hmmm, I'll have to take your word on that," she chortled, as she settled into a deep squashy sofa near the fireplace. She watched as the Doctor sat at the opposite end.

"I'm serious," he persisted. "Couldn't have beaten the Sycorax leader without a good cuppa."

"Well, I wouldn't have made it though med school without coffee," she retorted, ignoring his comment about his past adventures. She learned early on that the Doctor liked to boast of his past exploits and was terribly put out when she didn't immediately ask for further explanation. She found she enjoyed keeping him on his toes, as most of the time he was entirely too pleased with himself. "You know, you might like it."

"I'm perfectly certain I would find it completely repulsive," the Doctor replied.

"Come on, just give it a taste," she implored, holding her mug underneath his nose. She suddenly changed her mind, pulling the mug to her again. "Mind you, I probably shouldn't be giving you this in the first place, considering how hyper you are normally. I'm a bit scared to see you with a caffeine high."

Just as she expected, the Doctor reacted the way she predicted.

"Give me that," he huffed, reaching to grab her coffee mug. He took a deep sip, then sputtered indignantly, "_That_ is the most vile thing I have ever tasted," as he pushed the mug away.

"Why do I find that hard to believe? With the way you go around licking everything, I've seen you put much nastier things in your mouth than some harmless instant coffee," Martha scoffed in disbelief.

"Instant coffee? Instant coffee?" the Doctor replied, "Well, if you insist, but if you ask me it tastes more like Miborian Slug slime."

"Then why do you make it a point to go licking everything you come in contact with?" she queried, not really sure if she wanted to know his answer.

"Why? Why?" he asked, "That's a good question, Ms. Jones."

He scanned the messy piles of books on the _coffee_ table in front of them, noting that most of the titles reflected Martha's interest in alien medicine as well as extraterrestrial anatomy and physiology. When he finally located a particular volume on humanoid life forms, their bodily processes and functions, he reached for the tome, not noticing the fact that he had unknowingly brushed his forearm across her thigh.

But Martha Jones noticed, and she bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from responding in an obvious fashion.

"I've always liked this one, very thorough," he said as he placed the rather large volume in her lap. Martha couldn't help but think it was the size of an atlas and when she opened the book, the span of it covered both her legs. With great care and reverence she painstakingly turned the pages, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information in front of her.

"It's going to take a sea of coffee to help me learn all of this," she said with a self-deprecating laugh before she took pause, gazing down at the text. "So many species...so much…diversity in the universe. It's all so...amazing," she said, engrossed in the book before her.

He watched her, impressed and intrigued by her thirst for knowledge...quite pleased and ever-so-proud to be the one to give her the chance to obtain that knowledge. He sat beside her, quietly watching as she studied the pages.

"I don't see anything about Time Lord anatomy and physiology in here," she said, looking up at from the book. She caught the strange glance the Doctor gave her. "I mean, a few weeks ago I had to perform CPR on you and I was lucky that I had heard your two heart beats and figured out you had two hearts. What if some emergency happens and I need to give you medical care? I don't want to kill you because I don't know how your body works."

"First off, you will not kill me," the Doctor started, with a serious expression on his face. "Time Lords are a very hearty species, and not much can kill us outright. Though, I suppose I should show you how to work some of the medical equipment in the infirmary."

"You think so?" Martha snorted, already annoyed by his change of subject. "I've been bugging you to do that since I stepped into the TARDIS, but back to the question at hand. How am I supposed to treat you if I have no idea how your body functions?"

"I'll be perfectly fine without you having an intimate medical knowledge of my body," he dismissed her as he reached over to take the book from her. Except Martha Jones would have none of it. She refused to relinquish her grasp on the volume, much to the Doctor's chagrin. Once their impromptu tug-of-war ended with no victor, the two competitors found themselves glaring at one another. Martha was the first to speak and she fought to keep her voice even and emotionless.

"Doctor?" she asked, noticing the menacing angle his eyebrow had taken, "What would have happened if I hadn't changed my CPR technique to adjust to the presence of _two_ hearts when I revived you that day?" Before he could interrupt her she continued, "Whether or not you would have recovered on your own without my help is not the point because I _know_ what I did either saved your life or revived you faster than you would have without my help so don't play this cloak-and-dagger rubbish just to hide secrets from me. Don't waste _my_ time." When she finally stopped talking she feared she had pushed the issue too far, but held her bluff as she released the book and folded her arms.

The Doctor stared at her, his jaw clenched. She could see movement at his temples as he ground his teeth. She held her breath and lifted her chin. Suddenly he stood from the sofa to walk to a set of bookshelves in the far corner of the library. Martha watched with amusement, as she always found it fun to goad him when she found the chance.

He returned a few minutes later, dumping in her lap a book that was covered with strange circular symbols. Martha cautiously picked up the book and started to page through it and she was soon confronted with the same symbols.

"Why can't I read the words in this book?" she asked, looking up at him.

The Doctor looked at her haughtily and said nothing.

"Seriously though, I thought you told me the TARDIS translated all languages for me. So why isn't it working for this book?" Martha persisted.

"Because I told her not to," he replied, as if this clearly ended the discussion.

Martha sensed his annoyance as he stood in front of her, his own arms now folded in conclusiveness. He would not look away from her gaze and she knew a truce at this point would have to be her doing. She tried not to snigger as she smiled up at him.

"Then this means you'll have to be my tutor for this lesson," she replied, patting the sofa cushion next to her.

Her smile was infectious and the Doctor soon felt his anger falling away. He shook his head in amusement, not wanting to believe she had trumped him, not wanting to admit that she was right.

"Ms. Jones, what am I ever going to do with you?" He rubbed at the back of his neck before sitting again, this time right beside her instead of opposite.

"You're going to teach me about Time Lord anatomy?" she asked, a hopeful grin on her lips.

"Alright then," he began, "But only the basics, just in case of the off chance we end up in a tight spot."

"We always end up in a tight spot."

"Now shut it young lady, you'll not be disrespectful of your teacher," he replied in jest, pulling the book until it settled on both their laps. He budged up against her and moved his arm closest to her to the back of the sofa. Martha smiled at the memory of her father once barging in on her and one of her old boyfriends as she and the boy sat on the sofa watching the telly years before. The Doctor was by no means a boyfriend, in fact the thought was ridiculous, but the comical irony of her present situation still screamed in her brain. Then the Doctor started his lesson.

"Very well, young lady," he began and she was relieved to hear a hint of pleasure return to his voice, "I'll only go over the basics, the very basic basics. You won't need to know anything more." He turned the pages, scanning as he went.

"You're a fast read," she said and he gave her an acknowledging glance.

"That'll be fact number one then," he said as he flipped through a few more pages. "I suppose the next thing you should know is that Time Lords are extremely long-lived."

They were sitting side-by-side, their shoulders and legs touching. The Doctor tried at times unsuccessfully to keep the arm he had around to the back of the sofa from resting upon Martha's shoulder.

"How long?" she asked, looking at his face, barely inches away.

"Forever, barring accidents," he replied, looking at her briefly before returning his attention to the book between them.

"And you seem to be the type that's accident prone, least to me you do."

"Well, you might say that, yeah." The arm he had behind her moved to nervously scratch the back of his head. "Terribly accident prone compared to most."

"Good thing I'm nearly a doctor then, right?"

He glanced up at her, one side of his mouth crooking into a smile.

"And of course, you know all about my bicardial circulatory system," he added. Martha nodded in response. It was she who turned the next page. She paused to study an illustration.

"Your respiratory system?" she asked, looking up once more.

"Correction, respiratory bypass system," he replied, realizing that they were much closer together than a few minutes earlier, "With it we can survive strangulation and extended exposure to a vacuum."

"That's how you didn't pass out at the hospital when I did?" The Doctor nodded at her question. "Well," she said, "I'm sure that comes in handy on occasion, with you travelling through space and all that."

Her attention returned to the book at hand as she silently paged through its contents, studying the diagrams and illustrations as she went along. The Doctor remained quiet as well as he observed her, thinking that if any human could benefit from or deserved an eidetic memory, it was this woman.

"I don't see it," she finally spoke, shaking him from his thoughts.

"What?" he asked.

"I don't see it anywhere in here," she continued as she turned back and forth through the book's contents.

"What?" he asked again, looking a bit puzzled. "Something missing?"

"Yeah," she replied, looking up into his eyes. Their faces were extremely close at this point. "There's no section on sexual reproduction."

"I beg your pardon?" he said staring at her blankly. Her comment had taken him completely by surprise.

"Sexual reproduction," Martha repeated slowly. "You know, how little Time Lords and Ladies are made?"

The Doctor pulled away from her and stood once more.

"That has nothing to do with performing emergency medical care." He began to walk away, as if he considered the subject closed.

"What, a bit sensitive about it?" she called after him. "Don't have all the right parts? Does your species lay eggs or something bizarre like that?"

The Doctor turned around indignantly.

"I most certainly do have all the right parts," he insisted. "It's just that Time Lords didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Martha persisted. Her curiosity got the better of her, so she walked over to him.

The Doctor always gave her mixed signals when she flirted with him, sometimes responding to her advances and other times simply ignoring her. She wanted to know where she stood with this man...alien...Time Lord…person.

"Doctor," she implored, "I just want to _know_. All I've ever wanted was to _know_…as much as I can." Then she became quiet with the understanding that perhaps she had gone too far, pushed too hard. "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down at his trainers.

This was too dangerous for him. _She_ was too dangerous for him. Keeping the girl at arm's length had become a habit, his penance and punishment in the wake of self judgment.

"Tell you what," he started, taking her hand, "I'll stop being so, what did you call it? Cloak-and-dagger, if you stop being so damn curious."

She laughed; he finally made her laugh. With a gentle tug he urged her back towards the sofa.

"Come on, we'll talk more."

This time when they reached the sofa he immediately sat beside her, facing her.

"What do you want to know? Go on, ask me anything." He winked. She smiled.

"Why is it you're always so closed when I ask about certain things?"

He looked at her, suddenly aware of how serious she had become.

"Don't you trust me? I can keep a secret, you know?" She made an attempt to lighten her tone with a grin.

What the Doctor did next shocked the hell out of Martha Jones…

He reached up and brushed her fringe to the side of her face.

"Martha, I know you can keep a secret. I trust you with my life just like you trust me with yours." He smiled as Martha nodded mutely against his hand. "You need to understand that those kinds of things are different for me than they are you humans. Martha, I'm over 900 years old. If I spent as much time thinking about sex as you humans, I'd never accomplish anything."

Martha laughed weakly at his pathetic attempt to joke at human kind. Part of her wanted to explore the whole '_I'm 900 years old_' statement further, but she felt they were on the verge of something; something that could change everything.

Question was, did she really want that change or not?

She looked up at him, pulling his hand away from her face and guiding it down to her lap, where she cradled it in both of hers. "So, does that mean you don't…," she trailed off, not sure how to say what she wanted.

"Oh, I do," he started and she could see the mix of emotions crossing his face. "It's just it's not as important to my species as it is to humans. We didn't need sex to reproduce necessarily, and well, my lot was what you humans might call up-tight."

"I see," Martha said. The Doctor gave her a bemused glance.

"No, I don't think you do," he sighed. "I don't usually have that kind of relationship with my companions, as humans tend to make more out of it than it is. I'm not a human, and I'll never live a human life like you. I don't want to start something that will cause problems for us later on; and I've learned from experience that kind of relationship would never end well for either of us."

"Who said anything about expecting any sort of relationship beyond what we already have?" Martha protested. "In my estimation, this time with you is the equivalent of a gap year at school. I'm not looking for long-term commitments from anyone at the moment."

"But you will, Martha. Believe me; you will," the Doctor said sadly. "If we took this step, we'd be opening a door in our relationship that could never be closed again."

"Well, you know what they say about doors; they're meant to be opened." With that said she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He hesitated, catching a glimpse of her dark eyes, now half-hooded. She stilled, no movement, and when he watched her eyes close completely he could hear the faint breath as she inhaled. It was only natural that he immediately wondered what she would taste like...coffee, or the singular essence he had known on the moon, in that hospital, in that hallway, with people panicking and running about, with all the noises and bright flashing lights. She had been one of the very few with the presence of mind to remain calm.

Then he felt her lips slightly pucker and give way and the sensation of touch leaped into the forefront of his mind. Lips, their sensitive skin much different from many other women, other men, he had known. Different from Jack. Different from Rose...or Jackie for that matter. He took pause to wonder how many people he had kissed, or been kissed by, in his recent years...

Until Martha moved again and the Doctor felt her body begin to pull away. He held her at the base of her skull to keep her from pulling back further.

"Your lips," he observed, "I never mentioned how nice they felt that day." He stared at her lips, not noticing that Martha was looking straight into his downcast eyes. All the Doctor noticed were her lips. "Full, firm," he muttered, still looking at the girl's mouth, "And only the slightest hint of pale pink beneath the tan around the edges."

"You are strange." Martha laughed, shaking her head ruefully.

This seemed to snap the Doctor out of his musings.

"Right, where were we then?" he asked brightly, clearly trying to divert her attention.

"We were talking about anatomy," Martha grinned, giving him a mischievous look. "Or more specifically, your anatomy."

"Oh, that," the Doctor sighed. "I said I'd answer anything, so go ahead with your questions."

Martha settled into the sofa, hundreds of questions running through her head. However, as she had just snogged the most handsome alien she had ever met, only one question really came to focus.

"Is it like a human male's?"

"What's like a human male's?" he responded, deliberately acting obtuse.

"You know," Martha insisted, "Your penis, or don't you have one?"

"Of course I've got one," the Doctor replied resentfully.

"Well, you are an alien, I thought maybe you had tentacles down there, or something...," she shrugged.

"I most certainly do not have tentacles," he exclaimed. "Tentacles, she thinks I have tentacles...does it look like I have tentacles? I DO NOT have tentacles!"

Martha was a little sorry she had brought up the subject, but she was still pleased. Who would have thought he would be so sensitive about this subject? But then again, his sensitivity could get him to open up about topics she'd suddenly become very curious about.

"Alright," she conceded, "If you say so."

"I do say so," the Doctor retorted, clearly put out.

"So," she drawled, "What does it look like?"

"It looks like an everyday penis; that's what it looks like," he snarled. "I've been in enough hospitals to past muster with the doctors and nurses."

"So it's exactly like a human's then?" Martha persisted. "Like any old bloke's?"

"Well, not exactly," the Doctor admitted sceptically.

"How _not exactly_ do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity peeked.

He scrubbed his hand across his face.

"It looks like a normal uncircumcised penis, but unlike like a human male, I don't have a flap of skin covering the head of my penis."

"And what exactly does that look like?" she asked. "I've only been with human men with the regular ones, with foreskins and all. Except with my training, but…oh yeah...now I remember, one summer I was with an American bloke who was circumcised." She lifted her hand and with a grin imitated a pair of scissors with her fingers.

"Ouch," the Doctor mouthed, no sound to his voice, before they both laughed softly.

"So, can I have a peek?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me; just one little peek?" she inquired as she now pinched her fingers together. "One tiny peek; strictly for professional reasons, of course!"

"No, absolutely not."

"Come on? Pretty please?"

"No."

"Oh, please?" she whined, tilting her head.

"I said, 'NO!' Martha."

"Chicken."

"I am so not chicken! I just don't want to show you my penis!" Then he stared at her wide smile and dancing eyes and the absurdity of their situation hit him with a peal of laughter. Covering his smiling mouth with his hand for a second, the Doctor rolled his eyes at her. "I can't believe I let you prod me into saying that. Do you have any idea how undignified it is for a Time Lord to say something like that? You're good; you're really good."

She nodded her acceptance of his compliment before they settled into happy silence.

They were still facing each other, sitting rather close together on the library sofa, hands touching, laughter abating. It was then that Martha felt the Doctor's thumb begin to draw circles on the back of her hand. He laughed softly to himself one final time.

What the Doctor said next shocked the hell out of Martha Jones…

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." This time he _wasn't_ smiling; his eyes were deadly serious. Martha Jones swallowed hard. He had just called her bluff.

It was her moment of truth. Martha knew this was her way out, a means to walk away and keep their relationship the same as it had always been. Did she really want to do this with the Doctor? He'd all but said flat out he wasn't interested in any sort of long-term commitment. Could she keep herself from developing more than friendly feelings for him? The Doctor, as enigmatic as he was, had this quality about him that begged for someone to love him, to heal his wounded soul. Could she resist the temptation of wanting more than he could give?

She closed her eyes for a brief second, than came to a quick decision. She _did_ want this with the Doctor. She knew from the moment she had stepped foot in the TARDIS that she could never spend the rest of her life with him, so what harm would a little fling between friends do? Opening her eyes she looked at him straight on.

"Alright," she replied

The Doctor stood up, and extended his hand to her. Grasping it firmly, she allowed herself to be lead away from the sofa and out of the library. She mutely followed him, watching him closely as he lead her down the twisted corridors of the TARDIS. He unexpectedly stopped in front of a door she was unfamiliar with. He turned to look at her, his face expressionless.

"You're sure about this?"

"Positive," she responded and grinned up at him. "You?"

He gave her one of his most brilliant smiles and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter.

Warm to his challenge, she sauntered past him into the darkly lit room. As the Doctor walked in and shut the door behind him, the TARDIS automatically brightened the space with dim amber light. She could see the room was sparsely furnished, yet very distinctly male.

"Doesn't look much lived in for a 900 year old alien," she remarked as she glanced around the room.

"Yeah, well, as you've probably figured out, Time Lords don't need as much sleep as humans, so consequently, I don't spend much time in here," he shrugged as he started to unbutton his jacket.

Martha noticed his actions and walked back to him.

"Don't," she said as she reached up to still his hands. He raised an eyebrow at her, questioning her actions, but said nothing.

"It's just that, undressing is half the fun, and I don't want to miss out on anything," she teased. As she smiled slightly she noticed his pupils focus quickly on her and she had to fight back a feeling of smug satisfaction as she stepped up to him. "So, let me do that," she gently demanded.

He had finished unbuttoning his jacket so she took the opportunity to slip her hands beneath the lapels and up, searching for his shoulders. Then she felt him shrug, helping her remove the garment. She dragged the blue sleeves down to his cuffs and let the jacket fall to the floor. Her eyes were level with his shirt collar and she felt him step towards her until their chests touched.

"I thought this was going to be strictly professional, Ms. Jones," he whispered and she felt his breath against her forehead. He couldn't see her eyes and for that she was thankful, because she had closed them with a catch of her own breath upon hearing his voice, feeling the sound of him thrum through his lungs.

"Strictly professional," she whispered into the cloth of his collar. "Yes, Mr. Smith, strictly professional."

Then his hands were skimming, travelling up the length of her bare arms, quickly reaching her shoulders until they came to rest on either side of her face. She looked up to him and met his intense gaze.

"Martha," he spoke evenly, a hint of question in his inflection.

"Doctor," she answered as he lowered his head until their lips touched once more.

This time she was the one to respond to him when he parted his lips to explore her mouth. Gracefully, tentatively he moved until she accepted him and the kiss deepened. Feeling that she probably looked silly just standing there doing nothing in response to his advances, she bent her elbows until her hands rested on his hips.

She smiled and fought back a laugh as she recalled the image of her mother telling her, '_Martha, never fall for a man whose arse is smaller than your own. He'll only break your heart, child_.' Damn her mother's advice.

"What?" There was a hint of laughter and a definite smile in the Doctor's voice.

"Just nervous, is all," Martha gasped.

"Don't be."

"Can't help it." Looking up at him, she winked and impishly retorted, "First time I've shagged an alien."

The Doctor snorted with laughter and pulled her into his arms for a hug.

"Oh Martha, I'm so glad we've met."

"Me, too," she smiled as she pulled away and began to slowly unbutton his shirt. "I see you went without your tie today. Decided to be a little less formal?"

The Doctor swallowed nervously as he watched her remove his shirt.

"Well, I like to change things up sometimes."

"Mmmm," Martha hummed, finally undoing the last button of his shirt. "I like the informal look you have going, but I see it comes with more layers." She grasped the hem of his Henley near his trousers and tugged both shirt tails free. The Doctor allowed her to first push the button down shirt from his narrow shoulders, then watched with hooded eyes as she bunched the Henley in her fingers and began pulling up. "Time to see just what differences you might have from us humans."

"Far be it from me to stop your professional explorations," the Doctor smirked.

"Well, then in the name of science, I think I need to remove this article of clothing to make more careful observations," Martha said, pulling the shirt over his head, and dropping it to the floor. "Hmmm, looks normal enough. But I think I may need a closer inspection."

The Doctor really did have quite a normal-looking torso. Very lean and pale, his chest sparsely covered with hair like any normal human bloke. Unable to resist any longer, Martha placed her lips against his shoulders, kissing the skin there. Once again, she was surprised at the slight coolness of his flesh, which was so very different from any human.

She could feel him shudder as her tongue snuck out to taste his skin, which had a faintly salty, yet honey-sweet quality.

"Martha, I think I'm at a bit of a disadvantage. I thought our agreement was 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours?'"

Martha pulled away from him and grinned boldly.

"No one's stopping you, you know."

The Doctor gave her a wide smile, and quickly pulled off her tee shirt.

"Fair is fair." He stepped back to admire her figure, how her chocolate-coloured skin contrasted against the blush colour of her bra.

"Nice."

"Thank you," she murmured, feeling somewhat exposed.

The Doctor, noticing her sudden nervousness, placed his hand on her face, forcing her to look up at him.

"We don't have to do this, Martha," he said softly. "We can stop at any time. Just say the word."

Martha knew that the Doctor would never pressure her into any thing she didn't want, but she wanted this, so very much.

"No, I'm fine," she replied, reaching back to unhook the clasps of her bra. Shrugging her shoulders, she allowed the garment to fall to the floor between them. "I'd say we're even now."

The Doctor could swear that even the dignified 'Time Lordly' side of himself shrieked at him to look down, look down! After all, he was a male of his species and even as controlled as he prided himself on being, he wasn't perfect. In fact he was half human. Yes, that would explain it. Thankfully, the discipline that came with being a Time Lord won out and he refrained from ogling her breasts. Instead he dipped his head forward to kiss the shell of her ear.

"You're lovely," he whispered before gently moving his lips to the taught muscle between her ear and shoulder. He could feel her stiffen and relax in his arms as she tilted her head back. He heard her exhale and sensed her pulse quicken beneath his tongue.

"For someone who doesn't do it like a human, you're good at what you're doing," she sighed and he smiled against her neck.

"900 years of practice," he murmured into her skin before tasting her with a quick nip.

"So I guess this makes you a dirty old man then?" she replied with a gulp and he knew she was trying to bait him again. Her skittering fingers raised goose flesh across his spine.

"You like when I do that?" she asked and he nodded his reply into her throat and pressed against her, his hands hovering above her bottom, holding her at her waist as he carefully bent her backwards. At first she resisted but then realized what his urgings meant and she loosened in his grip. The temptation was too much to fight and he grazed hungry lips down her neck, to her chest, until he reached his destination. He imagined her face at the moment his lips latched onto one puckered brown nipple, her jaw slack in a soundless 'Oh'.

Then her hands were in his hair, forcing him up once more until she found his lips. This was a kiss in which he did not hold himself in check, nor she. A savagery spiked in his veins as he yanked her harshly to him, pressing his arousal into her abdomen, locking his arms around her waist. An answering coo let him know he had not pushed too far, too fast.

What Martha Jones did next shocked the hell out of the Doctor…

She lifted her legs to wrap them around his middle and locked her heels at the base of his back. He opened his eyes in astonishment only to see her looking at him, kissing him with her eyes wide open. She pulled her head away.

"Enough foreplay," she gasped.

Grinning, the Doctor walked with her in his arms towards his bed. Leaning over the side, he let go of her, and she dropped to the bed with a surprised yelp.

"So, you're ready to move on, are you?" he teased, as he toed off his chucks, kicking them to the far corners of the room. Martha did the same, reaching down to pull off her boots and drop them off the side of the bed.

"Yes," she implored, reaching for the button opening on her jeans as the Doctor did the same with his trousers. She pushed down her jeans and knickers in one swoop, kicking them off her body, and managed to watch as the Doctor pushed down his trousers, over his narrow hips and long legs. She looked him up and down and then raised an eyebrow.

"No pants?" she queried.

"Never seen the need," the Doctor quipped as he crawled on the bed to join her. He rolled over, knowing that she wanted to look her full. She leaned over him, her hair falling into her eyes. The Doctor reached up, tenderly tucking the strands behind her ear, then lay back, allowing her to explore his body, knowing his turn would come soon enough.

Immediately her eyes were drawn to his penis. It was exactly as he described, as the skin was completely smooth, with no noticeable head to speak of. Unable to resist, she reached out to touch him. She smiled as she heard him hiss when she clasped her fingers around him. Looking at him, she saw that his eyes were hooded, watching every move she was making.

"So, do you like it like other blokes? Or are you different with that too?" She moved her hand in an experimental gesture.

The Doctor shuddered at her touch.

"It's a bit...more sensitive than most," he gasped, as he clamped his eyes shut.

"Do you not want me to...," she started, releasing her grip as she spoke.

"No!" he practically shouted, as he reached up to stop her. "Just...be gentler, that's all."

"Oh, okay," Martha smiled, getting an idea of what he might like. Releasing him from her hold, she chuckled as she heard him groan in disappointment. "Patience," she cooed, and then reached down to just barely brush her finger tips against the underside of his erection. She felt his response to her light touch and grinned as a very wicked idea came to mind. Leaning in closer, she brought her mouth close to him and blew gently on his penis.

Then he said something, something quite short and undeniably direct, in a tongue she could not comprehend. She assumed it must be the same language in which the Time Lord anatomy book had been written, the language he had directed the TARDIS not to translate for her. She smiled at him across the expanse of his torso. So he swore in what must be his native language during sex...how charming. She decided to end his torture with a gently playful lick at his arousal, which elicited another gasp and murmured curse.

When he opened his eyes she was straddling him, her face hovering over him, her black hair falling forward against her warm skin.

"Enough with the lesson," she whispered above him, "I'm ready for my exam, Doctor."

She pushed off to sit above him, her smooth legs flanking each of his hips. His hardness desperately reached for her as she settled her backside against it. A completely male aggression possessed him and he followed her up into a sitting position, nearly wanting to growl in relief at the recaptured sensation of her rich, inviting skin against his own.

He threaded his fingers in her hair, holding her head still. His eyes raked over her face, taking in all the fine details.

"You are exquisite," he murmured as he brought his lips to hers. Her mouth opened under his, allowing his tongue to explore. For seconds that filtered into minutes, both fought for rule of the other and control of the kiss, but Martha broke away with a gasping, desperate breath. The Doctor dipped down to her neck, to begin a gliding dance of licking and kissing the skin he needed desperately to worship.

Between the mesmerizing softness of his lapping tongue and his lips caressing their way up her jaw he inhaled and exhaled deeply, almost drinking her in.

"Chocolate," he interrupted after adoring the bow of her lip with his tongue.

"What?" she asked, suddenly confused.

"You make me crave it, whenever I watch you."

"You watch me?" She pulled back to look at him, an expression of utter surprise on her face. "When? Where?"

"Quite often, actually," he replied and cocked his head to the side, "Where? In the console room, mainly. We're usually too busy running when we go outside. If I stopped to look at you then...well, that might not be extremely prudent."

"And _chocolate_?" she inquired, eying him carefully, "What's that about?" He slid his tongue from the point of her chin to her jaw. Her responding sigh warmed his ear.

"Your skin, Martha," he whispered, his voice low, "It won't let me look away, and when I do it remains in my thoughts." With his teeth he tugged on the edge of her ear lobe. "And it makes me want…chocolate."

"Oh," she replied, breathing out in more of a sigh than a statement at his mouth's tender attentions. "Oh God."

"Then the taste of you," he breathed again into her ear, feeling the hammer of her heart against her chest, "I've found that I actually prefer the flavour of your skin to the taste of chocolate." He pulled back to look at her, wondering if she understood him. "Is that alright?"

She stared at him, her jaw slack with want.

"I like that, actually," she said, studying the brown of his eyes, "Martha Jones, better than chocolate."

"I find it beautiful, your skin." His fingertips carefully touched her face near the corner of her lip as his eyes followed the path he traced across her cheek and to her neck. "Simply lovely." His voice trailed off.

"I like your eyes," she said as they gazed at one another. She barely drifted forward before kissing his cheek only to pull back and return to another spot, lower on his face, with a bless from her lips. She offered another tiny kiss before she moved to the edge of his nose with another, only to move to his opposite cheek.

"What are you doing, Ms. Jones?" he asked very quietly.

"Your freckles," she answered, "I like them too." Then she felt his hands gripping her waist, pushing her hips back, felt his hardness slipping toward her core.

"I want you, Martha." She felt his lips moving against her cheek. "You've made me want you." Another press of his thumbs against her stomach and she felt his length parting her folds, past the point of her want. She wanted to see him, see his eyes when it happened, when they connected.

"Please, Doctor, please," she mewled, their foreheads touching, eyes searching. He reversed the direction he was guiding her. "There," she gasped, "Right there."

With a roll of her hips and his subtle upward thrust he was inside her.

Martha Jones and the Doctor groaned, as both were overcome by the intensity of their union. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him even deeper within her.

"How?" she whispered, leaning her forehead against his again.

The Doctor grasped her hips tighter, moving her body upwards just a bit, and then he let gravity take control as she slid down again.

"Don't need much," he hissed, as he eyes closed at the sensations their actions brought.

"Kay," Martha sighed, as she continued the minute movements the Doctor showed her. If he were a normal human male, there wouldn't be enough friction, but this was the Doctor and from his expressions she could read that every small movement affected him.

His direction and need had a marked effect on her, his subtle thrusts rippled through her, unlike what she now considered the brutal couplings she had known before...

Their arms wrapped around each other, pulling each of them closer. Martha dropped her head onto the Doctor's shoulder, her mouth open, gasps being drawn from her with each delicate movement he made beneath her.

Suddenly he changed the pace of his thrusts, now moving in a circular motion against her. Martha threw her head back and cried out, the Doctor's gentle force compelling her inexorably closer to that tattered edge, the groundswell of emotion driving her to places she always sought but never thought she'd attain.

"Good?" the Doctor growled, his mouth dropping to the pulse point of her throat and she shuddered as the vibration of his voice coursed through her body.

"Yes," she groaned as he hit that spot within her again. Her senses opened to the newness of the world around her now. The dim lighting, shadows from the unknown playing across the walls of his room called their dance to the pulsing rhythm of their bodies becoming one. She leaned forward and captured his bottom lip in hers, noticing the finest sheen of sweat below his mouth, savouring his taste. He groaned and the sound filled her ears before she felt his fingers caress her hair.

She began trying to find a way to move in counter point to his actions. After a few attempts, she discovered how to wriggle against him so she could impart every pleasure upon him, that for which she knew he would never demand. All that she knew he deserved but would never allow himself to take.

"Martha...," the Doctor gasped, "Are…are...you close?" His drives up into her were becoming more erratic, less drawn out and deliberate like they had been earlier.

"Almost," she whimpered, her face pressed against the side of his. She felt him snake his hand between their bodies, and his fingers sought to play over her clit, giving her what she desired most.

Her body erupted with pleasure, causing her to let loose a low moan in his ear. The Doctor moved unsteadily, surging upward once, twice more, before releasing a sharp but winded roar that startled her. He emptied himself inside Martha, the warm essence that was uniquely him, now held in the most intimate and secret place in her body. She collapsed onto him, causing him to fall backwards onto the bed.

They lay there together for the next few minutes; the only sound to echo was the beating of their hearts and the calming of their breaths. Martha pushed herself sleepily up from the mattress to lift herself off the Doctor's chest so she could look at him again. His eyes were closed and at first she thought he might be sleeping, until he opened one eye, then the other. His naughty grin made her smile broadly.

"So I take that you enjoyed yourself?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he blurted, "Immensely."

"But I thought you told me Time Lords weren't into having sex?"

He frowned melodramatically and shook his head.

"No...no...what I said was that I'd never accomplish anything if I spent all my time thinking about sex like a human does."

"So you're saying I think about sex all the time?" she asked. He purposefully looked away from her before quickly pulling her down to his lips for another kiss. When he finally decided to release her and the kiss ended, they slowly parted. She had a very dazed look about her.

"Now, Ms. Jones, I know for certain that sex is not the only thing going on in that brilliant mind of yours," he said, a self satisfied smile on his face. "But you have to admit, you humans do think about sex an awful lot."

"Possibly...," she admitted, crossing her arms on top of his chest and resting her head on them. "But you still haven't answered my question."

"I do think about sex, Martha," he sighed, realizing she wasn't falling for his brush off. "I'm just better at compartmentalizing those kinds of things than humans."

"Ah, okay, compartmentalizing. Is that what you call it? And this from the same alien who defines a kiss with the words 'genetic transfer'?" Martha quipped, but accepted his answer for now.

Then a sudden thought occurred to her.

"Doctor, I don't need to worry about getting-"

"No," the Doctor answered empathically, knowing exactly what she was referring to. "I'm completely free of any disease, the TARDIS makes sure of that, and I won't get you pregnant either, if that's what you're afraid of."

"But-"

"Martha, you're not fertile at the moment," he began, trying to reassure her.

"But that's not a hundred percent guarantee. Any first year medical student could tell you that," she protested. "And how can you tell?"

"My senses are more advanced than yours, and I can tell..."

"Oh my God, you can figure that stuff out? You know my cycle and all?" she cried, embarrassed beyond belief.

"Martha, I've had many women travel with me before you and will after you," the Doctor said practically. "It's no big deal."

"But still," Martha protested, "Easy for you, you're a bloke. And how's there a guarantee you won't get me-"

"Martha, the only way I would have even the most remote chance of getting you pregnant is if I wanted to get you pregnant. Different species, different mating habits, remember?"

"So you're saying nothing can happen as long as you don't want it?" she asked, curious.

"No," he said bluntly.

"Alright then," she replied, trusting his word, once and for all. She looked down into his face to see him grinning up at her. "What are you grinning at?"

"So, did you learn all you wanted about Time Lord biology?" he asked, with an amused expression on his face.

"Not as much as I'd like," Martha giggled, leaning down to press a kiss on his chest. "I think I still need a bit more tutoring. Don't want to neglect my studies, you know?"

"Far be it from me to discourage your education," the Doctor laughed, pulling her up to his mouth for another kiss. Somehow he could tell they both would benefit from her current course of study.


End file.
